


Voltron WIPS

by cecelej



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Army, F/F, F/M, Hunay, I'll add more tags with each story so, M/M, Multi, SHEITH - Freeform, Texas, Waiter, allurance, diner, wips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-22 23:34:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecelej/pseuds/cecelej
Summary: I had a lot of work in progress pieces that, let's face it, I'm not going to finish any time soon, if at all (sorry lol) SO I wanted to post some of the stuff here that I liked. Maybe you'll like them too.Enjoy!





	Voltron WIPS

Baby blue and pastel pink bathed the walls of a little diner in Texas. Old fashioned and fading, the diner served the small town’s population from morning till night. Oldies played on the crackly radio, falling on the small kitchen and slipping through the dining room. Worn pleather booths and laminated four top tables were silently reserved for their usuals. The smell of grease from the deep fryer was sewn so deeply into Keith’s clothes by the time eleven a.m. came, he was sure if he put a potato in with his wash, it’d come out as French fries. The hours were long and the pay was shit, but Keith needed the job.

He was working a double, taking a shift for Pidge, undoubtedly the worst of the wait staff and also the youngest. She’d taken the job shortly after her brother had gotten injured during battle. Like a lot of the guys around here, Matt had taken the road most traveled. High school football, army, injury. 

Pidge’s mother had left her job to wait at Matt’s side in the hospital and Pidge had decided to pick up a little slack in the families income. But her good will hadn’t transferred into good work. Unless she was seated behind the cash register or fiddling with the diner’s lacking website, she was unmotivated and slow. 

Coran always seemed to breath a sigh of relief when she dropped a shift onto Keith’s shoulders. Not only was Keith a better employee all around, the work gave him something to do besides laze around in his shack of a house. Keith didn’t mind the extra work, but working a double with Lance, one of the dual managers, was a little hard to chew. 

Lance was, without a doubt, one of Keith’s closest friends. In fact, Lance was probably his best friend. But that friendship was based almost solely on bickering and play fighting. Unfortunately, 16 hours of that often resulted in real fighting. When Keith had first started working at the diner, Lance had been the bane of his existence, an insufferable flirt and competitive enough to tire out even Keith. He’d calmed down a bit after marrying his high school sweetheart, and the diner’s co-manager, Allura. 

The union had shocked them all, perhaps Allura most of all. But now, Keith had to deal with their constant jabs at his own relationship status, or lack there of. The two had already roped Hunk, the restaurant’s cook, into the blind date to end all blind dates. 

Hunk had gotten married to Shay six months after their blind date. Unfortunately, Allura and Lance now hailed themselves ‘Matchmakers’ and were pushing Keith toward every single person they could get their hands on. Keith had given enough cold shoulders to Lance and Allura’s ‘friends’ that he could become a snowman, even in the Texas heat. 

Keith stood out back, taking a smoke break and staring at the over-full dumpster. He’d just lit his cigarette when a head popped out the back door. Allura waved her hand dramatically, trying to clear the plume of smoke that she hadn’t yet entered. She coughed lightly until Keith huffed a sigh and dropped his cigarette. He crushed it under his shoe and arched an eyebrow in Allura’s direction. 

“Oh, Keith, I thought I’d find you here,” Allura said cheerfully, as if they hadn’t just had a short stand-off over Keith’s smoking habit. 

“Imagine that,” Keith answered dully. 

“You’ve got a phone call,” Allura said, popping back into the restaurant and sauntering away before Keith could argue. The only one who called him at the restaurant was Pidge and Allura could take that message. 

Keith sighed heavily and followed Allura inside. He walked to the front desk, sitting down in front of the cash register and picking up the corded phone. 

“What?” 

“Hey, sunshine,” Pidge said back, her signature upbeat sarcasm in her voice. “Turns out I’m not gonna be there for the morning shift. Pick it up for me?” It was less of a request than it was an order. 

“Oh, come on, Pidge,” Keith groaned. “I’m closing tonight and you want me to open tomorrow?” 

“I’ll take your next eight morning shifts!” Pidge pleaded. 

“This better be for something good,” Keith grumbled. 

“Thanks, Keith,” Pidge answered and Keith could hear the smile in her voice. “And it is, for something good, I mean. Matt woke up.” 

Keith felt like his blood had turned to ice in his veins, splintering up his arms and into his heart like a warning. The ringing in the ears cancelled out the hum of the early morning kitchen noise. He wanted to be happy for her, he did. But her good news served to remind him of his own bad news. 

“Oh, Pidge, that’s great,” Keith managed. He could hear the hollowness in his voice and hoped that Pidge couldn’t. 

“I owe you one, Keith!” Pidge said, oblivious to Keith’s emptiness. Then the line went silent, ended from the other side. 

For a second, Keith just stared at the phone, remembering that, with Matt’s return from battle, came the news of . . . His disappearance. Shiro. The name still hurt to even think about. 

Keith set the phone down on the receiver, pushing the thoughts away. 

“Everything okay?” Hunk asked, leaning his arms on the window between the kitchen and the front counter. He rang the little silver bell beside him, noting that an order was up. 

Keith turned, fingers finally leaving the plastic base. 

“Pidge’s brother woke up from his coma,” Keith said. 

“Holy shit,” Hunk said, letting out a low whistle. “I didn’t think, I mean, not that I didn’t think it, it’s just hard to believe that, you know?”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “I know.” 

 

 

 

The morning shift was slow and dreary as always. Keith had unlocked the doors minutes before Coran came bopping through the front door. Coran cooked for the morning crowd on weekdays. He wasn’t nearly as gifted with a spatula as Hunk was, but he had been doing the job for years and years before Hunk, or any of the other crew, had come along. 

Keith took fifteen minutes before opening the dining room to customers to drink a cup of black coffee and smoke a cigarette. He debated smoking another before he heard Coran calling for him, antsy to start the day and undoubtedly letting Old Man Johnson in early. 

Keith entered through the kitchen, patting Coran’s shoulder as he walked by. Sure enough, Old Man Johnson was already seated in his usual booth. Keith grabbed the decaf coffee pot, pouring a shallow cup as he walked up to the wrinkled old man. 

“Mr. Johnson, nice to see you this morning,” Keith greeted, setting down the coffee. 

“It’s going to be a scorcher today,” Mr. Johnson said. It was what he always said. He was on the verge of some old-age disease that everyone was too polite to ask about. He was sure Coran would know, but keeping distance between himself and others was sort of his specialty. “Going to be a good day for someone.”   
Keith nodded, knowing that it already was a good day for someone. Matt was awake. Pidge’s family was whole again. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth, even as the thought of family stung his chest. 

“I’m sure it is, Mr. Johnson. Your usual?” Keith asked, then, before Mr. Johnson could ask, he reviewed it. “Two eggs, sunny side up. A side of oatmeal, with a scoop of brown sugar. And one ice cold orange juice.” 

“Good man,” Mr. Johnson said, smiling up at Keith and patting his arm approvingly. 

Keith’s interactions with Mr. Johnson, and every other local (senile or not), could be written down, verbatim. The same faces and the same conversations every day. He knew exactly when Allura would come for her shift, 10 minutes before the second wave of breakfast crowd lazed in, giving Keith enough time for another cup of coffee and a breath of fresh air. 

And like clock work, he was sipping coffee, leaning up against the back of the diner and staring at the full dumpster once Allura was stationed. She was inside, checking up on his customers and serving her own. He was reveling in his bitter cup of energy, a cigarette hanging lazily from his fingers, when the back door peaked open. 

“Christ sake, Allura,” Keith sighed, turning to the door. But it wasn’t Allura who was peaking through. 

Hunk looked sheepishly back at Keith. 

“Oh, Hunk, sorry, man. What’s up?” Keith asked, taking another long sip of coffee. 

“Sorry to do this, Keith, but you’ve got a table. Johnson got Allura caught up in one of his stories and she can’t get out of it,” Hunk said, sympathetically. 

“You couldn’t seat them in Allura’s section? Who is it? They’ll wait,” Keith said. 

“Dunno, never seen him before,” Hunk said with a shrug. “But he asked to be in your section.” 

“So tell him whatever seat he wants is Allura’s section. If you don’t know him, he won’t know whose section is whose,” Keith said, unwilling to give up the last five minutes of his break. 

“No, Keith, he asked for you by name. He knows you somehow,” Hunk explained slowly. 

“Knows me?” Keith asked, confusion coloring his expression. “That’s ridiculous. Only you guys know me.” He pushed off the wall, moving toward the entrance and following Hunk as he walked inside. They stopped at the kitchen window and Hunk nodded subtly to a man sitting on a stool at the counter. 

The man was sitting with his head cast down, a frock of white hair falling over his forehead. He played absently with his fork, holding it in his left hand and flicking the tongs with his thumb. Even with his face down, half hidden by bangs, Keith knew who it was sitting at that counter. 

Keith could feel his knees buckle, then Hunk’s hand was on his arm, holding him steady by the bicep. 

“Keith?” Hunk asked, “Do you need me to get rid of this guy?” 

“No,” Keith said in a voice just barely audible. His face had gone pale and he stumbled out of the kitchen like he was drunk. His legs wobbled and the swinging door hit the wall. Everyone in the restaurant looked up at him, but he just stared. He stared into the eyes of a ghost. Dead. They’d told him over and over that He was dead. 

But in front of him, Shiro stood from his stool, facing Keith. They both stopped and stared, unsure of what to do, unsure if one another was real or fake. 

“Shiro?” Keith finally said, taking another step forward. 

“Yeah, yeah it’s me,” Shiro said, just as quiet and ghostly as Keith had spoke, like if they were too loud, the other would disappear. 

Keith didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t even sure if he knew the man in front of him. The last time Keith had seen him, Shiro had been a boy, a teenager, barely out of high school. Now, eight years later, he was broad shouldered, scarred, and tired. Keith, finally close enough to touch him, reached his hands up, his trembling fingers just barely touching the rough shadow of stubble on his jaw. But even with the lightest of touches, Keith could feel the electricity through his skin. 

“Your face,” Keith said, his palms cupped Shiro’s face. It didn’t escape Keith’s notice that Shiro melted into his touch, eyes falling closed in peace. “Who did this to you?” Keith smoothed his thumbs over the silver-y scar that ran from one side of Shiro’s face to the other. 

Slowly, Shiro opened his eyes, searching the lavender eyes that were now surveying his damage. 

“It gets worse than that,” Shiro whispered. He didn’t want to tell Keith, but if he hadn’t noticed it by now, it would be coming soon. He wasn’t sure how long he could put off seeing the disgusted reaction on Keith’s face, the rejection that he was sure he’d be offered. 

Shiro had known for months that Keith worked at the diner. He’d gotten back to town but kept to himself, afraid of what the small town would say. He’d wanted to see Keith, to talk to him. He’d even stopped by the diner, once, but was too scared to see Keith’s reaction. The longer he put it off, the longer he could pretend that he could be the kid that he once was, the kid that Keith once knew. Even better, he could pretend that Keith hadn’t moved on with his life, that he’d waited, that he’d take Shiro back, no matter the damage. It was selfish to wait. It was selfish to show up at all. But Shiro couldn’t stand back and wait any longer. 

Shiro stepped back, Keith’s warm hands falling from his face. He watched as Keith’s eyes travelled down his face, past his neck, away from his chest. They stopped on the fabric of his sleeve. It was tied in a knot, just above the bicep, or what used to be his bicep. 

Shiro had forgotten how hard Keith could be to read. He stood before Shiro, eyes locked on the remaining piece of Shiro’s right arm, no expression, no response. 

Keith looked for a moment longer, and then shifted his eyes back to Shiro’s. Before Shiro could process it, Keith was reaching up, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulling his flush to his body. Around them, the restaurant applauded, but neither of them noticed they had an audience. 

“They told me you were dead,” Keith whispered. “I didn’t believe them. But you were gone for so long.” 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered back. 

Keith pulled away, looking back at Shiro. He looked so different, so much older, but so much the same. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Keith said, fingers tightening on Shiro’s shoulders. “I’m not crazy, am I?” 

“No, you’re not crazy,” Shiro said with a short chuckle. “I’m really here.”

“But. . . why?” Keith let his hands fall, the doubts and worry beginning to eat him whole. 

“I think, we should sit down, talk?” Shiro said, motioning back to the counter where he’d been sitting before. 

“My boy,” an old voice called from behind Keith. 

Keith turned immediately to the familiar voice. Mr. Johnson. He’d been at the diner much longer than usual. He looked confused. Every once in a while it happened, he stayed too long, getting confused about where he was, having a hard time remembering how to get back home. 

“I’ll be right there, Mr. Johnson,” Keith said, smiling calmly at the worried looking old man.

Keith turned back to Shiro, brow furrowed. 

“I- I’m sorry, Shiro. I have to get back, back to, everything,” Keith said, motioning to the whole restaurant. He grabbed the coffee pot from behind the counter and moved to Mr. Johnson’s booth. 

“Not to worry, Mr. Johnson, your taxi is on the way. They just got caught up in traffic,” Keith said, using an excuse that always soothed the old man’s nerves. He poured another half cup of coffee for the man before turning back to Shiro. 

“I’ll wait, as long as you want. I can wait here until you’re done with work. I can come back. I can wait until next week, next month, next year. I’ll wait.” 

“I can’t just, stop working. Coran, Allura, they need me to help here,” Keith said, starting to feel overwhelmed. I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be. You told me you’re alive. You can move on now, if you want to,” Keith said, hiding his eyes from Shiro’s gaze. 

Shiro grabbed Keith’s arm just above the elbow, stopping him from grabbing a plate that Hunk had just placed in the kitchen window. 

“Keith, do you want me to go?” Shiro asked. 

Keith’s eyes flashed, passionate and bright, to Shiro’s. 

“No, of course not. But I don’t want you to feel, obligated, to stay here. Not for me,” Keith answered. 

“Keith,” the voice was from Allura, stern and sharp. 

“I know, I’m getting back to work,” Keith said, pulling away from Shiro and grabbing the dish from the kitchen window. 

“No,” Allura said, gently taking the plate from Keith. “Keith, go sit down. I called Lance. He’s coming in in an hour. I can handle it until he gets here.” 

“No,” Keith said, his voice cold. “I said I’m taking Pidge’s shift, I’m taking Pidge’s shift.” 

Allura cut a glare to him as sharp as a blade, making Keith involuntarily gulp. 

“Shiro, can you, can we, meet later. An hour?” Keith asked, looking up at Shiro with unsure eyes.

Shiro nodded, watching as the plate of food once again shifted into Keith’s grip. 

“Where?” Shiro asked, a small smile spreading over his face. 

“Here, out front,” Keith said, trying his best not to lose his breath over that smile. “Is that, okay?” 

“Perfect, I’ll meet you.”

Shiro wanted to lean in for a kiss, a hug at the very least, but it wasn’t right. There was still so much he didn’t know, so he simply put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing once before stepping away. 

“An hour,” Shiro confirmed before walking out of the diner. 

 

“Jesus, Keith,” Allura huffed. She followed behind him as he brought the plate to one of the diner’s patrons. “What was that? Who was that? Why didn’t you talk to him?” 

“That,” Keith said, unsure how to begin, “That was Shiro.” 

“I got the name!” Allura scolded, bopping Keith on the back of the head. “But who is he? How do you know him?” Allura pushed. 

“Anything else I can get you?” Keith asked, setting the food in front of a middle aged man who he couldn’t name because his mind was swimming so deeply. Without waiting for an answer, he moved back toward the counter for the pot of coffee. 

“Keith! Answers!” Allura demanded, but before Keith could answer, the front door slammed open. Standing in the doorway, under the loudly ringing welcome bell, Lance stood, panting and out of breath.

“Takashi Shirogane?!” Lance panted. “He’s here?! They said that guy was dead!! He’s not dead!?” 

“Lance!” Allura scolded, jerking her head toward dazed-looking Keith.

Lance scurried up behind them, following Keith about as he waited on the thinning crowd. 

“YOU know Takashi Shirogane?!” Lance asked. 

“I. . . yeah,” Keith answered. 

“How does KEITH KOGANE know Takashi Shirogane??” 

“It’s Shiro. Just Shiro,” Keith mumbled. “I’ve known him. . . forever.” 

“Forever?” Allura asked. 

The two hovered over Keith like flies on shit. He rolled his eyes and grumbled along, wishing they would just back off. He was out of it already, just seeing Shiro made him feel 16 years old again. 

“Since I moved here,” Keith corrected. “He was my first friend when I moved in with my foster family . . . he was my only friend.” 

Keith could practically hear Lance and Allura sharing a look. 

“Just a friend?” Allura pushed. 

Keith paused, running out of tables to bus. The restaurant was nearly cleared out. It was their lull before the lunch rush. Only two tables were occupied and neither of them needed anything. 

“…it doesn’t matter,” Keith said. 

“oh my god. You had a thing with Shiro??” Lance said, both Keith and Allura turning to shush him. 

“It was a long time ago,” Keith demanded. “And it wasn’t a thing.” 

“Well, what was it then?” Lance asked. 

“It was just. . . us. That’s it.” 

“Sounds like love to me,” Allura said with a devilish smirk. 

Lance and Allura both expected Keith to retaliate, to snap at them and shut them up. But he paused, silent for a moment. 

“Maybe,” Keith responded. The soft admission shut up both Allura and Lance, if only for a moment. 

“Why didn’t you go with him?! Why are you still here?!” Allura asked, outraged. “Go find him! Go on!” She was pushing him toward the door, but he stopped her, turning to stone in her path. 

“It’s been too long. I don’t even know what to say to him,” Keith said, getting snippy for the first time since the Shiro had walked through the door. The shock was wearing off. 

“Keith, he came to see you,” Allura said. “He asked for you. What else needs to be said?” 

“He’s been gone for eight years, Allura. It’s not that simple. I don’t even know where he’s been. He could be married. He could have kids. He could have a life.” 

“Then why would he have come here?” Allura asked. 

“Because we were friends? I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t even come here for me. Maybe he just knew I worked here and was saying hi. I don’t know.” 

 

 

“There he is!” Allura said and she and Lance began to ogle from where they stood, leaning over the pale pink counter like excited children. Keith, on the other hand, escaped their constant questioning and awkward crushing. He stepped out of the air conditioned diner and, again, was hit with the knee weakening effect of seeing Shiro again. 

“Hey,” Shiro said. He looked bashful, and sweet, and his smile made Keith’s heart stutter. It wasn’t even a full smile, just a polite face. But it was so familiar. It was so pretty. 

“Hey,” Keith answered. “Do you want to walk to the park?” 

Shiro nodded, then shielded his eyes from the sun to look at the sky. 

“That sounds nice. It’s always shady over there,” Shiro said. 

Keith nodded back, starting to mark his path across town to the park. Shiro fell in step beside him. For a moment, they had nothing to say. Both of them could feel the weight of 8 years on them. But neither could speak. 

“I’m sorry, I should have called. Or, made sure you weren’t. . . involved. I shouldn’t have shown up at your job. I-” Shiro began to ramble, his nerves getting the best of him. 

“It’s okay, Shiro,” Keith said. He bumped his shoulder lightly against Shiro’s. “I’m glad you did.”

“You are?” Shiro asked, skepticism in his voice. 

“Of course, I am. I missed you while you were gone.”

The statement left even more hanging in the air and they returned to silence. This one was more comfortable. But, still, it was heavy.

They walked the main street in silence, tiptoeing around the thousands of elephants in the room. Finally, Keith stopped, reaching for Shiro’s arm, forgetting it was gone. Instead his hand landed on Shiro’s torso, his fingers tangling in Shiro’s shirt. 

Shiro stopped too, waiting for the elephants to start being addressed, one by one. 

“Where were you?” Keith asked. “What happened to you?” 

The pain in his eyes as he searched Shiro’s face was nearly impossible to reconcile with. Shiro turned his face to watch as a small blue pickup truck drove down mainstreet slowly. 

“Matt and I got captured. It wasn’t looking good. HE wasn’t looking good. Some rebels came and got him out of there, but his body couldn’t really handle it. It took a lot of work to get him out and. . . and I couldn’t get out with him.”

Shiro’s brows furled when he moved his eyes back to Keith. Worry. So much worry. And a warm hand gripping even tighter into his shirt. He looked back to the street, his eyes scanning the storefronts, landing on their own reflection. It was wavy with heat and distance. They were so different now than when they were young. Shiro gulped down the regret. 

“The rebels couldn’t come back for me. I stayed trapped for a long time. But. . . I got out on my own. It was. . . hard. I’m not going to lie to you. I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there. But. I did. Somehow. It’s kind of a blur, the whole thing, it’s just bits and pieces. ” 

“But you, you’re okay?” Keith asked. 

“I mean, I’m short an arm, but who needs two of those things anyway?” Shiro joked. Keith watched, straight faced, as Shiro rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. His hair was all white. Trauma, Keith guessed. It looked good on him. 

“Don’t. Don’t joke like that,” Keith said, taking a step closer, prompting Shiro to make eye contact once again. “I need you to say it. I need to hear it. Are you okay, or aren’t you, Takashi?” 

Hearing his real name made Shiro’s heart hammer in his chest. He’d heard it a billion times, but it was different from Keith. It meant something. Though he couldn’t put in words what exactly that was. 

“Sorry,” Shiro said. “I. . . I’m okay. Now. I’m okay now.” Keith nodded, knowing that there was more to that, but trusting that Shiro was being honest. Shiro was always honest. 

“Okay,” Keith nodded, his hand dropping gently from Shiro’s shirt as he began making his way toward the park yet again. 

“So, that’s where I’ve been for the past eight years,” Shiro said, the hint of sarcastic humor in his voice again, as if he’d just summed up a little vacation he took. “What about you? Couldn’t help but notice you’re not an ace pilot. Was that, because of me?” 

Keith stuck his hands in his back pockets and nervously looked away from Shiro. It was his turn to come clean. And he knew Shiro wasn’t going to take it well. 

“I guess, maybe a little bit. After you were. . . pronounced dead. . .” Keith began cautiously. “I got in a lot of fights. The people around here, I think they were mad, that you were a golden boy and didn’t get out. No one knows what happened and. . . They gossiped, small town bullshit. But I got in a lot of fights over it, so they kicked me out of school.”

“Keith-” Shiro began in a stern tone, but Keith didn’t let him finish.

“After that, I started work at the diner and, I never left.” 

“You didn’t graduate high school?” Shiro asked. He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but it was there. And guilt. He knew that Shiro would blame himself, at least partially.

“No,” Keith said. 

“Keith, how could you ruin your future like that?” Shiro asked, sadness in his voice. 

“I didn’t,” Keith said, suddenly defensive. He crossed his arms, reminding himself of all of those conversations they’d shared in school. Every time Keith stood up for someone with his fists, or argued with an instructor over semantics, Shiro was there to give him a stern word, to encourage him to be better. And Keith would snap back, arguing for a few minutes with Shiro before realizing that Shiro was right. Shiro was always right back then. But now. . . . now it was different. He wasn’t some kid with anger issues anymore. “I worked at the diner and they became my family, Shiro. When you left, I lost everything. I was alone at that stupid school. I was a goner there. You were the only one who ever believed in me. . . Getting expelled was the best thing that happened to me after you left. I found a new family. It was good for me to get out of there. I found Allura and Coran, Pidge and Hunk. . . Lance.” 

“Lance,” Shiro repeated. 

“Huh?” Keith asked, confused as to why Shiro had gotten caught up on Lance’s name. 

“You, said his name differently. Is he. . . your boyfriend?” Shiro asked. 

“What? Lance? No. Lance is not. . . no. He’s not my boyfriend,” Keith laughed. Even after all of the flirting and fighting, Keith couldn’t imagine ever actually liking Lance like that. They were oil and water, fire and ice. As good as they were as friends, being lovers would be messy, loud, and honestly, too agrivating to manage. “He’s just a friend. A good friend, but nothing more.” 

“Wow,” Shiro said, voice light with wonder. 

“What?” Keith asked, his smile falling at the sudden change in Shiro’s tone.

“Your smile. It’s the first time I’ve seen it, since before I left. It’s so much more beautiful than I remembered,” Shiro said, his cheeks heating up with what he’d just said, but he meant it. And he couldn’t look away as Keith began to smile bashfully. 

“Jesus,” Keith said, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment. He hid his smile in his hand, trying to wipe it away, looking away from Shiro. “You can’t say stuff like that, Shiro.” 

“Sorry. Is it because. . . Are you taken, Keith? I don’t know how to tiptoe around the question. I mean, I tried to. . . a few times, but you keep brushing it off.” 

“Oh. . . I . . . you have?” Keith asked, he looked up at Shiro with wide eyes. The blush stayed on Keith’s face. Shiro just nodded, waiting.   
“No,” Keith said quickly, then again “no,” he said with a small smile this time, so much softer than the last. “Much to Allura and Lance’s dismay, I’m single.” 

“Why?” Shiro asked and the question stumped Keith. 

“Are you upset that I’m single?” Keith asked, smile fading into confusion. 

“No!” Shiro quickly countered. “That’s not what I meant, I just, I wanted to make sure. . . I just hope you weren’t here, waiting for me for all this time. I hope I didn’t keep you from living your life.” 

Keith was silent for a moment. He had no good answer. He had been stunted by Shiro’s disappearance. But, he wasn’t upset about it, not now that Shiro was here. 

“I waited for you,” Keith said. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. I just, wasn’t ready to move on.” 

“I’m sorry,” 

“Stop, don’t be sorry. I wanted to wait.” 

“And you?” Keith asked. “You’re. . . ?” 

“I only got back into the country a few months ago,” Shiro said with a smile. It was just like Keith to be this dense. Dropping hints had never worked for Keith. “Then I came for you. It took me a little while, to get the courage to actually come see you. I’ve been hiding out a little bit. But, I guess you can say, I waited for you too.”

 

Keith couldn’t wait any longer he grabbed again at Shiro’s shirt, pulling them both to a stop and reaching up for Shiro’s jaw. He leaned up on tiptoes and pressed his lips to Shiro’s. It was soft and plush as their first kiss, but a single tear slid down Keith’s cheek. It was so much more than that first kiss, back in school, when they had the whole world ahead of them. 

 

“I love you.”


End file.
